Time to learn new script when it comes to writing

Nadine Cresswell-Myatt

The handwriting debate continues and it would be wonderful if once and for all a stopper could be placed on it. Handwriting does need to be taught in our classrooms, as Marnee Wills ("Teaching the write stuff: the forgotten art of penmanship", Education, February 3) argues. This is because it is a life skill with certain cognitive benefits. But it should also be banished from our exam rooms, post haste and forever.

The laborious and painstaking process of forming letters is an abomination to a considerable percentage of our bright students who suffer from dysgraphia, a recognised and not always treatable developmental co-ordination disorder.

Handwriting may be all but impossible for people afflicted with dysgraphia.

I have seen this several times over as an educator, student and parent. In my own year 12 studies in the 1970s, "Good enough to be published" wrote my English literature teacher on the bottom of my essay. The glowing compliments continued throughout the year. But when it came to the exam, I almost failed.

At the school awards night I faced my literature teacher. She floated past me. "You knew all your material," she said, "and yes, frankly, I was surprised, but they simply couldn't read your handwriting."

I ended up doing a master's of English literature and taught literature in the university and TAFE systems, proving that I did have an aptitude for an area I felt passionate about. However, an examiner couldn't fathom these reaches beneath my scrawl.

So I am sorry, but I doubt the truth of Bernadette Casey's statement ("Modern-day students simply revert to type", Education, February 10) that "examiners are adept at deciphering all handwriting, and there seems to be no judgment of it".

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As part of a team of professional writing teachers over the past 20 years, we have never permitted our students to hand write their assignments, for this very reason. It would be easy to mark them unfairly on content if it was difficult to decipher.

The reasons for my inability to write legibly became apparent only when I had children of my own. My daughter, who seemed bright in every way, refused to do the copious amounts of handwritten work her grade 5 teacher demanded. I was called to the school to discuss her wilfulness and general disobedience. Having spent nine years as a primary school teacher, I knew something was amiss and asked to have her tested.

She undertook a barrage of tests with an Education Department psychologist, much to her enjoyment as most did not involve handwriting but rather tested cognitive abilities. The verdict came back that she fell into the gifted category except for one result. When it came to coding, which measures eye-hand co-ordination and speed, she was on the first percentile – 99 per cent of the population could writer faster than she could.

There was a huge disparity between her ability to think and then harness these thoughts through the limiting confines of a ballpoint pen.

I sent her to the alternative school Preshil, which was more understanding of her needs and limitations. But VCE is the common denominator. She summoned Herculean effort to do well on her GAT, which also meant she was denied extra time in which to undertake her end-of-year exams. Although, interestingly, the same paperwork which we collected over the years (we tried various occupational therapists and occasionally had her retested to build up a portfolio of evidence) ensured that when she got to university she was not only given the opportunity to do all her exams on a computer, but she was also given extra time to do those exams.

This lack of a fixed standard across the educational sectors is another anomaly. She did top her graduation year, which was in some ways unfair. Her fellow students should have been allowed to use computers because that is the age in which we live.

Her VCE exams were seven years ago. I thought surely with my next child, who did his VCE in 2013, that the system would have finally changed enough to allow students to use computers for their exams because that is what the digital world now requires of us all. Even doctors, who are known for their terrible handwriting (is that because so many of them are gifted but have handwriting problems?), are able to now use computer systems to generate their scripts.

My son again had concerned teachers who thought his poor handwriting would have an impact on his results. He managed, but I believe there is a strong possibility it was harder for him than other students whose words flowed easily into neat cursive scripts.

The VCE, which is supposedly based on standardisation and equal opportunity and a level playing field for all, fails so many students by archaically applying 19th-century writing practices to a 21st-century education.